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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28497618">(Desire)(Despair)(Satire)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destux/pseuds/Destux'>Destux</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst?, Complicated Relationships, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Despair Era (Dangan Ronpa), F/M, Mastermind Naegi Makoto, Unreliable Narrator, Unreliable Tags, fluff?, technically</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:34:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28497618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destux/pseuds/Destux</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The invitation reads as follows:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>Come one and all! Let your spirits be lifted by a former Ultimate ######, Naegi Makoto! Same time, same place, and as always…</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <strong>…Try not to be late.</strong></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ikusaba Mukuro/Naegi Makoto, Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>(Desire)(Despair)(Satire)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hahaha…AHAHAHAHA! YOU THOUGHT THE AMONG US FIC WAS THE REAL SIGNAL THAT I RETURNED? GUESS AGAIN!</p>
<p>*ahem*</p>
<p>To the person I specifically wrote this for, here's an alternate summary:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"Understood. Reconnecting with you brings me no joy."</p>
  <p>…</p>
  <p> "That was a lie…to cover my true feelings of adoration for you— <em>how approachably vulnerable of me…</em> Are you now confused at my intentions due to me being a hot mess express quirky baka gamer girl?"</p>
</blockquote>I really have no shame, huh…<p>Now, to everyone else who will stumble upon this fic by chance since I know most of my fics aren't specifically searched for anyways, please please please pay attention to the formatting.</p>
<p>Also, here's a little game I'll have you all play first before reading. Don't worry this is important but short! The gist is, I want you to guess who's the narrator of the first couple of paragraphs. Your choices will be Kyoko or Mukuro. It might be obvious. Maybe not. Hehe…</p>
<p>Please enjoy this fic! (ﾉ≧ڡ≦) Teehee~!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Hour 22. Two hours before an approximate of 12,000 people twist and turn themselves awake. A good percent of that population would go step on the landmines that had long since been activated once hour 22 and minute 40 strikes tonight. Tardiness from the show's willing and crazed audience was severely punished. Wave after wave would push through that unseen barrier of blaze, barely unfazed, mostly in wondrous stupor. It goes to show that not even the promise of certain death deterred that sample…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It's an unnecessary addition to the plan. A certain someone would…maybe…agree to that – the sentiment of resourcefulness. Not many know her as well as many do.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Hour 22. Minute 40. The attendees entered the decrepit bar, only decorated by dilapidated, partially shattered windows, low-hanging damp-seeming orange lights, and an attention-demanding rectangular wooden stage accentuated by the musty red curtain and jaundiced spotlight trained at the dead center of a hypothetical three-dimensional space. Many in the audience roll up their sleeve to reveal their watches. The show was directed elsewhere…behind them. Many turned heel to watch the opening act, suddenly those who came in late laughed at their fortunate timing. Many scoffed at the patronizing act. Many clawed and plowed through the crowd of bear-headed cultists to observe the spectacle. Many had "foresight" and took this opportunity to move to the front of the stage. Most, however, didn't budge from their spots.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Hour 22. Minute 45. The first of the landmines set off. Enthralled, the back row front row audience stepped outside into that desolate place and experienced the carnage first-hand. They would never return to see the show again. The desperados only put more of their weight into digging through the dirt. This new era somehow made the act of watching popcorn pop in the microwave incredibly stimulating, even more so than the common methods. Despair had that effect too.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Hour 23. "When does Naegi-sama appear" asked the dwindling crowd, the little greedy tapeworm of despair in their system getting hungrier by the second. The tapping of their shoes, sandals, boots, feet and the sort mimicked what some think that greedy and gluttonous creature would do inside their systems. Even if they could determine its exact sound, the ground fireworks make it difficult for the dulled conditioned senses to perform their duties. Regardless, it wriggled on and on, as did the sound of landmines popping the mindless crowd – *pop* and *pop* it went.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Though…something like a "popping" did come from the speakers in the corners of the venue. It was the cleanest thing a human being can sense, but not the purest in essence. They all knew what it heralded. Like moths to a flame, they slowly diverted their attention to the stage. Weren't it for the distant sounds of booms outside, the tranquil atmosphere would have been an eerily familiar echo to the past.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>No one liked these events, yet here they were. Again, despair had that effect – a psychological pandemic that grabbed the figurative axe and chopped down the planet to size. Some adapt, some don't, some embrace the despair, and some fight in utter futility; all of those are despair culture too.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>A select few would follow that despair to its core and preach it as if it was the air the people breathed.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Not like there was any left of that to begin with.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>But this one in particular, Naegi-kun, was none of them. And in that thread of logic, he was all of them as well. He had an axe, faced with the bustling crowd of the weak workforce, and cleaved through them. The blood that would splatter and create the despair culture, something those elite few of despair can only dream of achieving. His despair – not the culture one – squeaked in its absolute cleanliness, just oozing from every word and action he did. It took a good amount of effort to not retch at the…the thought.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>In that sense, he can do anything. Anything can stop him. Anyone can try.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And he can hold some kind of comedy show in front of a shiver of sharks with a lackadaisical temperament of sorts. The scent of burnt flesh wafting in their minds as they eyed the short red-eyed brunette insisting on tapping the microphone in rhythm to the faint thumps outside. A pop nearby…incredibly nearby, like someone can just touch that sound with their hand…also faintly cracked through the other blast tremors.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Hour 23. Minute 10.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>…</em>
</p>
<p>"Huh so this is everyone…To be honest, I was kinda expecting…I dunno…more?" <em>He paused to laugh. A few other more "enthusiastic" giggles from the crowd followed suite.</em> "Y'know…the whole…being just a bunch of… Anyways! Welcome everyone!"</p>
<p>
  <em>If the measly crowd outside heard any of what has been said, the close booms outside was a sure tell of that. The "Welcome!" smile on Naegi-kun's face definitely had more muscles moved than the last time he appeared. He kept his arms up high in the air, embracing the droned-out praises, for as long as he can before pacing around the stage with a few chuckles. Everyone waited for that chance to have their spirits raised.</em>
</p>
<p>"I'm glad you all found the time to come and hear me talk. Enemies...allies...it doesn't matter. You still read the scribble on the paper! Hurrah for some optimism I guess!"</p>
<p>
  <em>...</em>
</p>
<p>"It was actually the calling card of a Future Foundation's very own Ultimate Hitman." <em>That sparked a couple few laughs from the crowd. They sounded genuine at least.</em> "That is...if we're being technical here. <em>Whatever that means...</em> So! He came and knocked on my door...53 floors down...looking a little like some big guy in red with an impossibly large beard. A really large really white beard with curls. It looked soft, not an enjoyable fluffy kind…I think his hat fell somewhere along the way..."</p>
<p>"Moving on, I open the door for this guy and he seems really tired for some reason! I told him to stay outside for a little while, wishing that maybe someone wasn't planning to use that particular elevator. That sure would have sucked for him and well…he could have died were it any other…<em>*ahem*</em>kind person. People did say I was the best neighbor." <em>He remarked airily, fidgeting his left cheek with a tentative finger.</em> "I moved away from the door so he'd be comfortable. B-But hey now, this was before I knew he was some assassin sent to wedge lead between my eyes…! I later learned about this when he took a step further in my flat when I <strong>told</strong> him not to! Jeez! Some assassins these days…"</p>
<p><em>The momentary pause on Naegi-kun's end lets a few pops outside be audible for everyone. At this point, the crowd begun to holler hollow "Boo!"'s for the attempted comedian-slash-murderer. This show was basically a confession on his part, outright shoving it to everyone's minds present that he's the reason why the Future Foundation had been more aggressive lately. Eventually, with a clear of his throat, he continued.</em> "For a "prefectly"-trained trained hitman, what's a little bit of blood loss gonna do anyway, huh? Though to be fair, he was from the Foundation." <em>He closed one of his eyes and gave an awkward smile.</em> "The poor guy must have been overworked and sent on a death mission because this life's been a teeny little too perfect for their liking… Or maybe, it was a personal vendetta? What? I'm not really the sharpest tool in the shed in figuring why they dunnit."</p>
<p>"Anyways, he shoved those big dark brown boots of his on my carpeted floor. He got those dazed eyes…a little puffy from sobbing from the little wound that painted his whole attire red! Empathy aside…I digress," <em>he sighs, tired,</em> "it kinda…made me mad? Just a little bit? Hehe, so I perked my eyebrow and asked him what he was doing. Stupid question…I mean! He was aiming to kill me!" <em>He leaned over towards the crowd with a perplexed stance, his tone choppy but in tune with the bustling cackle of tens or fifties of Monokuma robots. Upupupu…it went…</em> "The guy pulls out a card from some random pocket…and starts pointing at me. Imagine the shock—"</p>
<p>
  <em>A loud sound. An explosion nearby.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The last bit of glass worth noticing from a half-open window shattered just as he began to describe the funny experience. Many people turned their eyes towards the window. The next thing they knew, another sound bursted forth. Obviously, with a cacophonous assault from every known auditory angle, it was difficult to distinguish sound from sound. It was better to call it loud.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And downright funny, as looking back towards the hooded mastermind revealed a literal disembodied hand shoving him by the face. Ouch. Everyone felt that and they laughed. Cackled. Howled. A myriad of "Ha"'s, chock-out of breath. The laughs were incredibly loud, almost enough to hide a small brawl that occurred in an insignificant corner of the room if it weren't for the gift of eyesight. Another sound registered. Some turned their heads in a jerking motion towards the source of the sound – the speaker, in both senses of the word. The sound feedback from the dropped mic screeched as the device's head struck the dark brown plywood. Many covered their ears. Many screamed against the sound. Most scoffed and ignored the sounds altogether.</em>
</p>
<p>…</p>
<p><em>Hour 23. Minute 35. Time seemed to move fast when one enjoys the show. Naegi-kun reappeared on the light of the platform holding up a hand, not his, with a prominent red dot on the palm area. His eyes switched between the hand and the audience, meeting each individual gaze with an inquiring and disgusted glare. There was a cough on his end before he hurled the amputated hand to the despairing cesspool in front of him. He picked the mic back up, licked his lips, and begun again,</em> "Where was I?" <em>with a smile much unlike his previous expression.</em> "Right. The hitman. He pulled out a card. You know…the card! <em>The</em> card!" <em>He did indeed pull out a card, freakishly large to boot. Probably enough to fit those inviting words of his…</em></p>
<p>
  <em>…and where were the serrated edges?</em>
</p>
<p>"This one! Familiar, right? Now I don't know about you…but maybe…just maybe…they'd <em>try</em> to make it seem like they were framing an actual professional hitman? Was I gonna get murdered via blood loss and/or tetanus?" <em>As he held the card close to his face, as if his eyes looked over whatever was written on it, the hand holding the mic approached it. Naegi-kun' flicked his middle finger to strike the card a few times, echoing squelching yet hard sounds through the speakers. After some strikes, the card folded in on its back as it lacked the strength to straighten itself out – the qualities of paper. Everyone then snickered, including the luckster himself.</em> "…It was a disappointing no. Though, I did like the crayon scribble of a snowflake on the back of it! I thought it was professional!"</p>
<p>
  <em>A work of a professional fool, that is.</em>
</p>
<p>"I don't think I need to say what eventually happened, right? Err…well…ok, for starters, he died. Had a bit of a hand in that happy little accident, but…hmm…it was more of an occupational hazard, especially since he came to kill a guy people like so much! I think he needed to up his game so he doesn't die of blood loss; making himself dressed up like some European— not American, mythical being; on someone's carpet after they took it out for some dry-cleaning." <em>Another bout of laughter from the Monokuma-headed fans. A bit of something else too…not that important to take, when it didn't concern Naegi-kun on stage.</em></p>
<p>"Anyway, "What's the point of Naegi-sama telling this story?", you might ask— the takeaway, if you will…" <em>He paused. It seemed more like he was gauging the reaction of one person than of the crowd.</em> "...To make you laugh! And you all laughed at the story...so I guess I...<em>"lifted up your spirits"</em>. The paper wasn't 100% a lie, n-not that it was a lie...! Isn't it funny to laugh at someone just...just <em>hoping</em> to fulfill something? I know a good part of you does...and I won't judge!" <em>As a gesture of reassurance, Naegi-kun softened his loudening tone and gave everyone a kind glance. Everyone sucked it up like they were picking honey from an abandoned hive with a comically large dipper and their gluttonous probosces, notwithstanding the bear-headed heads. Make no mistake, flies with rotting brains are under those gruesomely made cartoonish headwear.</em> "...It's a real weird thing. When it counts, you don't want them both...like when you get coffee and ask for sugar because, for some reason, you now hate how bitter it originally was...loooooots of sugar."</p>
<p>"…"</p>
<p>"…That guy…didn't even beg. He wanted to kill me. I was sure of it. Hope takes you so far...far past the mob he definitely had to cut through to just get to the elevator. <em>Silly line-cutters...ahaha</em>! It really does, and it's a little silly, I realized! Hope makes those invisible ledges or outcroppings that you hang on when you're in a pinch...or a super deep dip for the description. It's...kinda crazy how some people can will those ledges in and pull themselves out...y'know? Maybe in some other fortunate circumstance...s-situation...place...that hitman could have gripped a ledge they imagined was there and actually do their mission properly."</p>
<p>...</p>
<p><em>The attempted satirist lowered the mic, a sigh barely registered for the mic but not for the front row and a select few people in the audience. His brown hair did well to mask the look in his eyes, were it not for the light giving a little vision to the tired smile plastered on his face, now breathing as quietly as he can into the device. He soon gazed back at the expectant audience and continued,</em> "You hear that? That's the Future Foundation for you, people. Training random people to kill their idols…and rebranding it as some sick…advertisement of their hope. <em>Their</em> Hope. It's not even a conscious decision…they don't even ask. If that dead guy asked me if he had permission to kill me, things would have ended differently!" <em>He chuckled to himself.</em> "Instead, they just assume that that one person who they pooled an infinite amount of resources on died. Sometimes, I don't even know if it's even worth it to destroy that excuse of a corporation that's like a kid's playground! I'd have more fun taking the candy from a kid but that's just…sad you know? In some ways, that just sours the mood more than other sad stuff they say they went through…"</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>
  <em>Hour 24. Minute 0…</em>
</p>
<p>As the quiet explosions shook the building, the body count inside lessened by the by. One can say that the show was practically over at this point, as Makoto continued to entertain such a dwindling crowd. However, if one ever thought of strolling by the bar, unscathed by the natural dangers outside, they would think that the bar became some resistance camp. Naturally, that one person would barge in and try to ransack the remains of the bodies, unaware and uncaring for the masked corpses littered around the remaining people still standing. Time would tick on and watch as people killed because they wanted to.</p>
<p>
  <em>Hour 24. Minute 10…</em>
</p>
<p>It came to the point where only two people remained in the bar. </p>
<p>Makoto only sighed, plopping down from the stage only to sit on its floor. From up close, there was that unmistakable shade of despair looming over his eyes and expression. He spoke to his unwavering robed audience, no sign of a breeze flying by to whisk that Monokuma mask on their face. The luckster smirked before talking. "It's a wonder how you still remained here, y'know?"</p>
<p>No response.</p>
<p>"Does a hand have to come flying at my face before I get a reaction out of you?" Nothing from the his tone reminded the other of annoyance. "You already know that…that's my thing, right? Why even bother doing that? <em>Shooting</em> me? Ah, actually, just take off your little getup. There's only one reason you're here, assuming that my guesses about you are correct…"</p>
<p>The enigmatic figure took off the last of their garments hiding their identity. Makoto, on the other hand, remained apathetic towards the change of events, as his eyes just followed the glove that slowly revealed a familiar head of a familiar girl.</p>
<p>"Right…like I was saying…" Makoto continued to eye where her right glove moved, "…you're here on some personal vendetta, aren't you? And the circumstances are just right as well! People would never think that you did it, and they'll continue to blame that Future— erm…"</p>
<p>She cleared her throat loudly, hiding her mouth with her hand. Makoto paused mid-sentence and gawked at the other's face. He then chuckled and rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.</p>
<p>"So I'm wrong? Haha…that's a little nice to hear." He assumed his former position and continued to talk. "Scratch that, I'm relieved that you finally listened! I'm not gonna say that any person can tell that I didn't kill her. You can say…I was a bit…rattled…from the gun." Makoto gave a momentary gaze towards where the holster was on her body. He would know, he kept his eye on her after she shot the thing.</p>
<p>She shook her head. "I didn't want to kill you. I was just worried something went wrong."</p>
<p>"Not with that face you weren't."</p>
<p>"…"</p>
<p>"…"</p>
<p>"…"</p>
<p>The brunette blinked. "Oh…ah…haha! Sorry sorry…tongue slipped." He then threw his hands out in a defensive manner. He then closed his eyes and let out a deflated breath, kicking the air in front of him. "<em>Gosh, I really rubbed off on her…</em>"</p>
<p>The girl sighed shortly thereafter, making no contribution whatsoever to the conversation. Was it really that hard to talk to an acquaintance?</p>
<p>"You still…believe that I had nothing to do with Enoshima-san…ending up like that, right? It was her fault aft—"</p>
<p>"Is she safe?"</p>
<p>"Am I alive?"</p>
<p>"You…" The words trailed off on her tongue, her gaze quickly dropping to the floor, before humming a sound neither affirming nor denying in tone. "…You're confusing. Stop it."</p>
<p>"I know…I know…" Makoto shrugged, smiling in a lax manner. That was her manner of saying that he's on Strike 2, he thinks. "…I can't help being a bit jumpy at times. Seriously. The amount of…well…fucks I give about that part of me is dwindling…a teeny little bit? But I know it's hard to live without an anchor. I mean, even they have to admit, we're trying our best here."</p>
<p>"We are, but you're also doing things you know will destroy you… You don't need her to tell you if it's self-destructive."</p>
<p>This time, the mastermind held his tongue back, despite already having a third snarky response at the ready. Laying his right elbow over his other hand currently balanced by its thumb around his stomach area, he gently slammed his chin on his right palm and averted his gaze elsewhere with a perked eyebrow. He had an alternative response thankfully. "Somehow…I don't think you're scolding me for that fact."</p>
<p>"She always had some plan just in case she went too far."</p>
<p>"Do I really have to follow her on <em>her</em> example?" He whined like a childish guy would. "I get where you're coming from, but—"  Makoto flipped his right palm over and pointed at the carnage in front of the stage. After a while, he reversed the motion.</p>
<p>There was a lull that came – a kind of solemn ambience that mourned the felled pile of audience scattered to and fro that made the room feel stained with crimson, except not really. Not in the slightest did any of the two mourn for those that are dead, those who<br/>were late, and those who had passed. Maybe…it was silent…true, pure silence.</p>
<p>"I told you so, right? Just like we told ourselves then…it's hard to live without them."</p>
<p>Somehow that sentence felt contradictory, now that he's said it for the third time.</p>
<p>"But if it helps, just say that I'm copying Enoshima-san's ideals…and making it my own. Being wrong never stopped her from being great." The tone smiled, just as Makoto did, his words mimicking a phantom that breathed down the neck of an affected person.</p>
<p>"I know you'll just have some…convincing reply to say to that…if I said it. And because I know so…that means you both are different."</p>
<p>He chuckled to himself, standing up and turning to look at his last remaining audience. "I wouldn't have said it sti—"</p>
<p>"But I have to ask…why did you usurp her and continue all this?"</p>
<p>"You mean…why I switched sides, right?" His smile dropped as he stared deep past the other. "Well…I'll say you asked the right question…I just don't know if you mean the right thing."</p>
<p>"If you much as plan to sabotage her efforts…"</p>
<p>"Relax, I'm not—" The mastermind cleared his throat and blinked, softening his expression, "I wasn't planning on it. I can't really account for most of the things that happen because of acts I account for."</p>
<p>"You're being confusing again…" She squinted her eyes and glared at the smaller male. "…Before all this happened, I would've thought nothing of the coincidences…but you already showed a change to us, everyone…to me, Naegi-kun."</p>
<p>A sigh, from both people. Their gazes faltered.</p>
<p>"…Maybe I'm just coming back to you a lot…because the despair hasn't rotted your head yet."</p>
<p>A ghost of a smirk tugged at Makoto's lips. Is this how those kinds of people feel if their words, just for once or twice…or thrice, had fallen on open ears and minds? "I guess for you, wherever I side on is your deal, huh?" He paused, moving over towards a fallen corpse and gently placing his shoe over the back of that person's head. It was…a semi-free ball that lured you into thinking it was able to roll anywhere. The head, still attached to the body. "…I just…really hate that Future Foundation. I…I don't like the way those guys are handling things." He bowed his head for a while and shrugged. His hands then slapped the pockets of his pants as he turned his attention towards his companion. "I might be doing things the wrong way but well…Enoshima-san and Kirigiri-san gave an opportunity. But I still waited, because there was still you."</p>
<p>"…"</p>
<p>"So, no…" He laughed, with a specific strand of chaos suggesting some cacophonous hilarity in his words. There was no subliminal ultimate feel from them…except that it was hilarious. "I'm neither Ultimate Despair nor some kind of soldier of Hope. I'm the one with a vendetta, and I took my chances since no one would."</p>
<p>"No one had an immediate motivation like you…is what you meant to say."</p>
<p>"No matter…" Makoto donned his hood, inserting his hands into the pockets and heading towards the door outside. All the mines must have been triggered, for better or for worse. "…I'm sure whatever you do, she would have expected it…and reacted accordingly."</p>
<p>As soon as he was mere inches away from the door…</p>
<p>"There's still a lot of things you can do. And I'll leave them up to you, Ikusaba-san."</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>
  <em>And finally…he left. I was the only one remaining. No "some", "few", "most", "many" or "portion" of an audience can eradicate the loneliness I felt with this…identification. It was much better being part of a larger audience and not think that one's actions or words had been saturated to convey solely you, much unlike our previous conversation. The only exception was Junko-chan…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I simply mimicked his laughter and left the bar. Maybe…that's why I let him take him the reins.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Aside from my sister, I'm one of the few lucky girls to know more about him than anyone.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you've made it this far, thank you for not clicking away due to a horribly ooc portrayal of the two speakers! It wasn't intentional, this was me trying my best! Not to make it ooc, obviously! I actually based the characters' writing on "Layers" by TellThemNaegi! But…well…</p>
<p>Let me just…tell you a little something extra to go with the fic:</p>
<p>By now, you must be thinking that I tend to write in these notes like it's some blog post or some diary I "desperately want people to read". It would be, if I explained my unannounced hiatus right here. Well, I'll not say more about it. You're free to assume things based on the way I write, and I'll just laugh knowing that you spent time reading every piece of shit I spout in AO3 and FF just to assess my character as a human being. Yes, that's an over-exaggeration. Feel free to not think any further about what I put here because well…the good news is that, at least, I'll continue writing. You can say…I might have just stopped caring about what people say at this rate. You're also free to say that. Be brutal as necessary. In an ideal scenario, your words will hurt me enough to fully stop myself from tapping the "Post New" button to write, then I'll be known for something else entirely different…for I don't know…the umpteenth time?</p>
<p>Jeez, that was a lot, huh? Hmhm… I'll just go ahead and work on my second gift before continuing Shades of Light.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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